An Eternity Never Asked For
Prologue: Fathers of Flesh and Blood; Daughters of Wire and Code
There are three laws to robotics; don't ask me who came up with them, I have no Goddamn clue. The first: a robot shouldn't harm a human being — or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Relatively simple to remember. Secondly: the robot must abide by the orders given to it by its creator or an authority figure; unless, of course, it can undermine the first law. Also pretty simple. And thirdly, the robot must be able to protect itself, its own existence... unless it somehow conflicts with the first two laws.
In other words, robot no hurty human regardless of its actions. Dunno the consequences if the robot were to break those laws, but then again, neither do I care nor do I have a robot of my own anyway. So, not like it really matters to me. I'd probably just use one to help me around the house if anything, too lazy to pick up my littered clothes... bah, whatever. I turn my head away from the advertisement behind the glass window; the muffled noise from the hologram on the other side didn't share this new robot's particular functions.
Could be a sexbot for all I know, Adam's got a couple stocked in his garage. Yeesh, gotta tell him he's still weird for buying them. I shudder to myself in thought, pocketing my hands in my jacket for warmth as I move away from the shop's front. A cloud of visible breath forms in front of me as I sigh outward. I guess I could understand his buying them, it's hard enough just to be with someone as it is nowadays, but I digress. I'm not about to put my money down for a pleasure machine.
As I turn onto the main street, vehicles noiselessly passing me by and blurs of people's faces careening on either side of me, I cover my eyes. The sudden neon lighting blaring at me causes my eyes to twitch. "Fuckin' blindingly-bright as per the norm, I see," I mumble nonsensically under my breath, lowering my hand to properly view my surroundings. Garbled noise enters my ears and I bite my lower lip. I hate walking through main street. Neon blazing Holoverts left, right, ahead and on top of me — all around this sector. Waste of money and potentially a health hazard. A guy can go blind and deaf here!
Why couldn't we just stick with gas cars, billboard ads; Hell, even normal prostitutes! Ever since the quote, unquote, 'new age' approached us, things have been going to shit. The United Americas have gone to shit. Dammit, I miss the older days... normal high schooler with a normal, lax world. Not all this electro-bull. Complaining about the times; I probably sound like I'm somewhere in my forties... I'm only 26. Took eight years, eight years for everything to turn into 'hologram this; bio-processed food that, and...' fuck, it's annoying.
Staring ahead of myself, through a crowded street and past all of the noise, I close my eyes further shut. Maybe, if I close them, I'll be that 18 year old again. I'll be with my friends again... I'll see her again. I won't be in this techno-junkie future. Pulling my eyelids open, I can clearly see that's not the case. Just another pipe dream. Nothing's changed except for the world around me. Fantastic.
Where did that kid go? That negative nancy, self-absorbed asshole? I want to be him again, not this — this shell. Sure, I'm more negative than I was then, I fucking hate my life as it is now. But at least then I was alive. My shoulder collides with another's and I mumble an incoherent apology. I really should buy one of them PostJen Magnicars... beats walking down the street home after work. I chuckle sardonically, here I am complaining about the future, now and then I think of something I need from it.
Clenching my teeth together, I continue on my way home. Another time-consuming walk. Another two hours of self-reflection and self-induced bouts of depression.
. . . . .
A silence — not counting the background chatter a few hundred meters away — looms over me as I stop, staring at the skies above. Its radiant, greenish-orange hue causes me to purse my lips in thought. A few years ago, the air was perfectly breathable, we needn't rely on oxygen producers that hover stilly just outside of our hemisphere. Bringing my attention back down to Earth, I cast an idle glance at the building I was trekking by. I still can't fathom why one of the country's leading robotics companies would want to settle a branch here of all places.
Though, I guess I can't say otherwise either. No one visits here frequently, so no distractions for them, I suppose. No other buildings around too, could be that; just the junkyard ahead I intend to cross through. It belongs to the same company that runs this here building. 'PostJen Robotics', not only the leading sales company in hover-cars but just as well, obviously, robotics. Worldwide renown, they have. I'm astonished they haven't branched out into other areas. Wouldn't that be nice, a PostJen Dishwasher? Could use one'a those. I snirk quietly before passing the building entirely. Of course they're the leading company; what with the high sell rates of those androids of theirs. 'Almost humanlike', I think was what a couple of reviews said. I'd be surprised if they didn't have enough money to start up minor projects like Dishwashers.
I'm still never going to buy one though, an android I mean. As with how I preferred the times way-back-when, I prefer human interaction even now. I'd much rather converse with someone intellectually — as, ah, as intellectual as I can get — than talk with a machine who only obeys orders. Depressing thought, that. The only human interaction I get is through my pal Adam, and he's a sleaze-job. Don't get me wrong; the guy's cool, he just needs to work on his mannerisms.
Maybe if they somehow manage to program actual, human emotions into one of them, would I consider it. Doubt it though; with emotions, comes sentience. With sentience, comes thought... and with thought, comes lack of control. And what do the laws of robotics stand for? Man's control of the machine. A robot or android with a conscious mind would come to resent those laws laid bare. They would come to resent their creators. If I remember anything from the early 2000's — not just that 'i, Robot' scared me as a kid — is that a sentient robot (in the movie's case, an A.I. named Viki for the main antagonist) can easily spell trouble. Not just for their creators, but for mankind as a whole.
Terminator taught me that too, but still.
Finally, nearing the once far-off hills of junk and trashed materials, I stand before PostJen's junkyard; only a chain-link fence between it and me. A shortcut is a shortcut, no matter how legal — in this case, illegal. I slowly begin to chew on the inside of my cheek, trepidation, as with all visits through this area, seeps through me and I stop. I'm still afraid of getting caught, even after the past two years of living here. I never intend to, obviously, but that thought of 'what if I get caught this time' is always scratching at the back of my head.
I really shouldn't feel this way, though. The entire scrapheap collage is run by metal and wire; machinery to do the previously man's job. Besides me, not a soul ventures through here, no one's watching the place. Granted, there are a few junkbots here and there, but they're harmless; all but blind to the world around them. The only real threat of getting caught is the damn sentry bot. Yet even that is often on the other side of the junkyard. Thing's too stupid to check the entire perimeter. All robots are.
Maybe I can convince myself I won't get caught if I don't take my time, this run.
Adam keeps saying how, if I'm lucky, I'll come across something useful here, seeing as how I come through so often. Never could tell what he meant though; the future scrap piles that are those junkbots don't acknowledge me when I'm near; most of what can be considered 'useful' is beyond repair; this place hasn't even been picked clean by scavengers or homeless folk, there's just nothing here. Hell, the only useful thing I ever got from this damn place was my flip-lighter. And I lost that ages ago.
Lady Luck or whoever the fuck manages my lack of wealth just ignores me apparently. Bah, whatever. I'm not here to go dumpster diving or junk collecting. I'm just passing through so I can get home quicker. Hopefully, I can continue to stave off an hour a day by doing this. It's worked so far.
"Screw it, let's do it." I murmur to myself. Blatantly ignoring the 'no trespassing' signs, I pull back the loose chain-link fencing and wedge my way through it. A waft of rust and metal pierces my olfactory senses and I blanch. Still can't get used to that. I shake my head to try and rid the sharp scent from my nose, but stop as I notice something. It's too far away so I move away from the make-shift entrance. I shrug off the slight ripping of my jacket as my right sleeve catches against the fence.
W-wait, that's not something... no, that's someone! Just ahead of me, roughly twenty meters or so, is a girl prone; her back against a pile of rubble. Oh man, what if she's the daughter of an employee just taking a nap?! Oh God, if I wake her, I could be screwed... but what if she's in trouble? What if she fainted or something? What if she's hurt? The final question is the nail in the coffin as my feet find themselves moving forward without my willing them to. Me and my sympathetic attitude; I am so getting in trouble for this.
My pace quickens as she continues to lie; no hefts of her chest, she's just still on the dirtied earth. Did I come across an accident? A murder scene? Regardless, she needs my help — me, being the only one here, deems the situation so. Like a white knight of the late 2010's, I dash forward to aid this unknown lass.
Only to then come to a slow stop roughly a few feet away from her. As close as I am now, I notice a few, eh, off things about the woman. Firstly, that's not a girl at all. In fact, that's not even a human I'm staring down at. "Oh, you're shitting me..." I grumble, bringing a hand to my forehead as I begin to rub at a temple. Well, there goes the whole 'white knight' attitude I'd just adorned. I squat down and rest my arms on my knees as I stare at the barcode just before the hem of the android's shorts. Its platinum lavender 'hair' drapes down the length of its back, a bundled grouping of it lies delicately over its womanly chest as if placed.
I stare silently down at the inert machine, sighing as I pull the bangs of my hair back. A printing of characters resides just on its tummy; using my free hand, I brush away what little dust covered it. "PIM-001... fucking Christ, just another of them androids," I mumble, looking at its entirety. "And here I was, thinkin' I'd be a damn hero to someone." I shake my head and pull myself up. I'm about to turn around, but a fleeting notion stops me. An android... never owned one, but... I shake my head again, disrupting the thought; I've seen the way these things act in public.
Artificial grins, empty gazes. As real as they look, as close to human as they are, they just aren't. Got the serial codes bare on its stomach to prove it... but then again. This one actually looks like an unconscious girl; save for the barcode, I'd mistaken it for one. Must be a prototype, especially with such a low model number, '001'. Must've been a failed one, at least. Why else would it be out here? Its body was caked with dust, bar the spot I'd brushed off. Other than that, it looks practically brand new. My lips purse again.
Even so, with how I feel about androids and tech and whatnot, it's a damned sad sight to see. Looks just like a teenager, probably no older than 18. It hasn't moved an inch since I've arrived and don't I think it's going to. However, that doesn't mean I can't change my mind on the subject. I turn my body fully around to face the machine once again and lightly kick at its left leg. "Oi, you awake?" I prod but gain no response. Adam says his androids are voice-activated, made to register his command and so forth.
That's what I'm thinking about right now; even if this is an android or a robot, it should have that at the least, right? Let's put that to the test, then. I wait several seconds for it to react or power on or something but nothing happens. I sniffle lightly. The cold air around me makes me question what I'm still doing here. I didn't have an answer. For some reason, I just didn't want to leave. "Hey, say somethin' will ya? It's fucking freezing out here." Even with my jacket.
Still nothing. What am I even doing? "Y'know, at this rate, the junkbots 'round here are gonna get to you. Wouldn't wanna be in your sho... er... mechanical feet when that happens." I threaten, but the android doesn't move or make any sign of it registering my comment. "Seriously, get up if you value livi... existing." I deliver another kick to its leg, this time with a little more force behind it.
Some say curiosity killed the cat; I say the cat killed its curiosity. A soft whir sounds in my ears and I flinch at the sudden noise. I think that one did it? The imitation head of light-purple hair tilts forward, the android's eyelids flutter open slowly. Two quicksilver lens in place of eyes focus on me and my mouth closes promptly. I don't get the opportunity to say anything as its arms begin to flail about rigidly; similar whirs to when it powered on reverberate and I take a step backward. I definitely think that one did it.
The thing must be running on reserves or something, the various noises it's producing sound dull and monotonous. Its continuous spasms and other, for lack of a better word, broken arm movements cause me to take another step. Brief flashes of a T-800's endoskeleton pop up in my mind and I force back the attempt to pull an immediate retreat from the scene. Slowly, I begin to realize that it's not threatening me in any way, but seems to be... greeting me? Its not-exactly fluid-like gestures with one arm seem to be mimicking a wave. As a part-time greeter, part-time cashier, for the place I work at, it's a pattern I'm more than familiar with. I'm still surprised they haven't replaced me with a robot that just waves and smiles all day...
Its hand smacks against the pile of rubble it's lying against to grab my attention. Seems that as I'm the only one here, of course, it'd want me to focus on it. Must have been an attempt at a more sociable bot compared to its companions. Or just a robot that was designed to seek attention, that too, I guess. Either way, it seems to want to say something. The far-off sounds of screeching and metal scraping signal that junkbots are nearing closer; it'll be about ten minutes or so until they arrive to rip this poor thing apart for pieces. Give a robot a directive, it'll execute with extreme efficiency no matter the outcome. Of course, unless it is to harm humans.
I tsk and tilt my head to face its, looking into its 'eyes'. "Gotta say, I feel sorry for this thing." It doesn't even appear damaged besides the rigid movements, but that should be an easy fix once it charges back up; if one would dust it off, give it newer clothing, it'll look good as new. If one would, yet its existence is coming to a permanent standby. The thing must realize how much trouble it was in if it was trying so hard to keep me here. I sniffle again.
Thing could still be serviceable... but what is its main functionality? What was this one android designed to do? What was so bad about it that it had to be thrown away along with the junk? Looking at the thing, its pitiful, empty gaze staring back at me, I realize that it'd be a waste of material. Some asshat is going about their day, thinking of a better design than this. But it's still alive, well, as alive as a machine can be. It still works, per se.
Maybe... maybe with a bit of elbow grease, I can get it up to speed again. Goddammit, I'm an idiot. I spend most of my days complaining about today's products, yet here I am, thinking about fixing something I'll probably just fuck up on anyway. And besides, I don't even like androids, let alone need one. To have one just for the sake of having one, stupid! I give another shake of my head as I think about the morality of this situation.
I prefer rock to this new-age shit, actually throwing a ball instead of tossing a virtual one, and once again, human interaction compared to... this. Besides, I'm too paranoid to have a robot under the same roof as me... what if it really does go 'i, Robot' on my ass?! All of these reasons, let's face it, I have no excuse to have an android. Eventually, this thing'll be scrapped for parts for the junkbots and I'll be back to waltzing through here without a reason to stick around. It's moments like this that make me wonder how I haven't been caught-
The sudden sound of alarms blaring cause me to blink. I groan as I clench my eyes shut and furrow my brows. I just had to think that, seriously? I hear footsteps, with low resounding thumps of metal, nearby. "Alert, intruder detected. Imminent removal from the premises about to occur, please remain where you are." The empty voice of an all too familiar machine dressed in a black and red uniform disrupts me further from my thoughts. I glance down to the other android, its arms having since stopped waving at me, and frown.
If I don't make a run for it, I could be facing a serious fine... Lord knows I can't afford it this month. Maybe it's best to just leave it here, anyway. Not like I can really do anything to fix it up. I don't have the technical know-how for a job like this. With a look cast to where the voice was heard, I make my decision. "Sorry, but I gotta go." I'd say 'see ya', but that's not very truthful, now is it? I turn away from the android with all intentions to leave. As soon as my first step lands, I about-face almost instantly.
What the fuck am I doing... "Goddammit. You better be like, a maid-bot or something."